


You, like cigarette

by morinoari



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Drama, Fame, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Smut, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morinoari/pseuds/morinoari
Summary: Lemme smoke you...~An InoAri long drabbleGenre: drama, a light smut
Relationships: Arioka Daiki/Inoo Kei
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	You, like cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> This story's been written based on the studies about phenomenology of fame, containing the interviews with celebrities, in which they confined to the researchers anonymously about various aspects of their life, that I've read a lot! I also read a lot of papers about the psychology of fame and famous people's traits during my college years. And this is a story I tried to picture some dark sides of a celebrity's life in, and mix their claims with my own figure of speech, through a depressed character. 
> 
> A suggestion!* if you're looking for some inoari fluff stuffs, it's not a thing for you, it mostly sets with people who maybe hate the changing season and have a bloody springy mood! And, don't look for a story or a sweet ending, cz it's a about a fact that never gonna end, it only starts! I call it a long drabble, in which everything spins around one concept. I wrote it last spring, and translated now, so take note of it, it's a translation.  
> By all these, if you're up to read, then enjoy reading!

**Inoo**

At 5 am, when the black behind the window soundlessly incinerates, like a breeze carelessly passes by, elicit a new day to strive. A cold sun is near to beam. The navy-colored curtains evanesces to blue. The quilt faintly weighs on my chest.

Day is like a stern face of a teacher spanking you, to point to the hope of a blinding light, which will turn to a shadow in the noon, and to the ashes at the end of the day. And it will repeat and repeat... just like when your cigarette burns and you light another one. Day is a haul on shoulder.

I close my eyes. The back of my head touches the cold pillow. My throat is dry, a glass of water sets beside me, which I won't be inclined to.

All these times, in which every moment of everyday were disparate, I found out the tomorrow is today. Who will take control of me again? Who will sell me? In whose hands I'll be? And whom I'll delude? A bouquet of lovely little freaks, inviting me to the rest of the game with archly smiles on their faces, they want to be entertained, and want me to entertain them. I have to get off of this bed and bring the option of a new game to the table, and they'd enjoy it, go kyakya or cry, and get worried about me, and enjoy being worried about me, so be entertained. Which one of them have yet swallowed it hook, line, and sinker? Who wants me to unfurl the verities? The pills they can't swallow. Who wants me to stop decoying away? What feed their so-called souls, The foolishness they beg for... Do they know where's the destination when they wend their way behind me? Do they know that immense marsh, big as an ocean. My snow whites, I'm their sleep-guarding prince, I'm meant to ensure that they won't wake up, cause this time if they wake up, they will drown. Their life is that absurd that I become its only sense, although they don't know what's my sense, they can only judge. And tomorrow when you are in their territory, I mean public, there will be a deluge again yelping while seeing you like a you're an appearing demon, and call your name, your 'working-name' and wave at... at the 'working-you', and your 'working-you' pretend he neither hear nor see. All his life, he's pretended... his truth has been made of the lies he's created, in the green room of a world, in which people sell their souls to a the unripe blooms of hatred, and get coins, and when the blooms flourish, the beauty cry blood on their graves. Your truth have been lost and every sleepless morning you cast around yourself and the adventure's upshot is that, yeah, seems like you've been lost! And no return, cause you've been lost in a heaven that you can't forgo. You've been lost in the spotlight, between a billion maskers glaring at you, you're recognized, but they don't let you recognize them.

Give me a sense for all these... How many times you've run over them? What you've reached? Wasn't it what you wanted?

I respire deeply, when the daylight slaps my face again to open my eyes. I pull my dark curtains. Then the faintly fall of my back over the mattress seems to be the only sound resonating in the room. Kick the duvet aside and cross my legs. Inhale my anaerobic room. But when it's all quiet, the running water coming to splashes by a cute person in the shower.

With the start of the shower door opening, the scary boundless borders of my mind recede. I hear his slippers on the floor. The distance he makes between his steps makes cute sounds.

I roll my eyes to the roof, thinking about his brain function; There's dynamic waves jump up and down in his head like a bird, suddenly like his brain sneezes, it orders for laughing, and like it hiccups the order will be repeated, apart from that his brain processes nothing else. Maybe that's why he went to the shower and sterilized himself from my last night's muck sweat. The meaning of clarity to him are shampoo and his lotions. But all the more reason to feel the comfort beside him, his head is like an empty street, serene, cozy, undisturbed with thoughts, maybe sometimes the fads or fashion and prettiness bulletin displays there up on the billboards, and wow who doesn't want to kill the time. But that's why he comforts me, he does,... dragging me out of a dark absurd world to a light absurd world, and for one moment I forget everything...

I feel his scent getting closer to me, and again befuddles me. I can't not watching him while he alights his small slippers on the flooring of my room to the drawer, I'd like to kiss those little toes. 

I turn my eyes, a white towel veiled his chest till his knees. The way his moist fringes adhering to his cheeks and covered his eyes more or less, looks it supposes to flaunt those sweet, rosy lips, with dew deposits on them. when I say 'sweet', i mean it really tastes sweet, like a juicy luscious peach... or maybe the first milk I've ever suckled.

He goes to the mirror, and my eyes moves everywhere after him. The dew on his lips bowls down to his little chin, and his massive eyelashes travels the long way of his round big eyes to bat and then travels back, then his button-like eyes turns to his lotion, the eyes you wanna glare at, even if it scares him. He picks it up from between the half-full lube bottle and moisturizing cream. Places the lotion nib on his palm and let that white taille ejaculate freely on his fingers, that makes me envy the lotion! Now his face's soft skin is being touched by those sleek hands. He's not noticing me, the mirror reflexes only the image of my legs.

Nevertheless, the way I've lived with him by now, the rear view of his little shoulders and arms bring me under the impression as if he turns his back to me and my thoughts. And he's truly tired of me and my thoughts. Sometimes when he's the special guest of my single 'philosophy class', before the session reaches to the middle, he yawns and comes close to locate his little shoulders between my arms, and like that he simply closes his eyes and sleeps. Or in the best case, he rolls his eyes and says "Inoo chaaan!", then with a sweet smile that you wanna eat up instead of breakfast, he says, "The world will be a better place with smiling!" then lays me down on the bed, or if we're on the sofa, and sits upon where I want and bends down on my face, with the same smile on his inviting lips he says again, "We can do everything we want!", and after that he melts his naughty smile on my lips.

And now he's satisfying me again, so I just put my arm under my nape and keep watching him. I'd love to touch him beneath the towel, touch those shadowed curves and the two soft circles smoothly coming out of the shades. Looking down at his hump through the towel. Those crimps on them that are connected from one circle to another, like an upended Wifi icon. At the same time his puny feet embedded in his oversized white plastic slippers and stuck to the floor, give me a pure happiness. 

He's silencing it... There's a famous term called the battle between heart and mind, I think the battle between mind and penis is harder, and mind will definitely lose. Anyway, the mind must be something useless, cause it always loses!

He steps backward for a thorough look-over, and his face is complete in the mirror. I feel the moon gleams on me that makes me restless and sweetly serene. He must be here now, on my arm...

But the show continues, with his unwet fingertips removing the edge of his towel attached to the underlay, making it fail to hold his body. He tosses it on the sofa. When he walks to the mirror again his bum shakes, and I think all the time his bum is in his boxer or trouser too, it shakes like this.

With the remnant moisture on his hand, he massages all over his body. His body is evenly white, silky and just a pitch dark gap below, like the edges of a enticing cave, casting shadow over each other and you wanna go in and see what's inside of it. It can make the 'working-Inoo' and 'casual-Inoo' disappear, only 'his Inoo' remains. Gradually the warrior between my legs starts some activities under my skin. At least if I can't hear my heart, with these beats I know that I'm alive, and have pulses. Maybe even this is my heart, I give him all my love from here!

He's my form of recovery, serenity, the only thing I need, and he doesn't understand it most of the times, unless he would spend all his time with me, ALL his time! Everybody's baby, all his life is summarized in being loved by everyone and, spending time with them and allotting his love with them kindly, and so nobody gets anything! But that's why you've got an avid temptation to have more of his love, he knows well how to keep you thirsty, even to me who's dying of throat dryness. He doesn't understand even that phone is one of my rivals! Because with him, I'm _Kei_ ; a commoner, sometimes innocent, wears pajamas and walks in his home, eats, washes his dishes, being a lover and have a crush on him, and being himself, to sometimes come at the door and open it for him, rather than an entertaining toy. An entity that rinse the dirt of the world of an undressing puppet in the showcase, a milk on a poisoned food, a pure wine that liberates you from fighting for a moment... 

My eyes closes from intoxication, but still skiing on his body. That bum... that he rubs and kneads with both hands, pulls its cheeks aside and apart from each other and pull them up and set them free, they shake and slumps down. His butt cheeks battering to each other, making maddening sounds, like the sound of battering my own body into his. The small chococro that coming out from between his legs is his cutest part, and really tastes like a melted chocolate, no matter how much you suck, it still draws out, and how much you can tease him with that. And also, his always-awake brown knobs on his chest, like two little cherries, that I could guess its size in centimeter from where I'm lying. Maybe next time I have to subtly measure!

I totally forgotten to look at his face. My crotch's come up without any obtrusive external factor. He's jammed my mind, every single pores of it. As a rule, the next stage is putting on baby powder, he hates to be sticky with lotion.

"Cut it already, Come here!"

He turns back and looks at me, gives me a smile that you see on a two-years-old baby's face. He's not being surprised, betokens the fact that all these time he was noticed that I'm watching him. He progresses shamelessly and stands before me with his hands behind his back, and his cute meaty shoulders looks even smaller. I took his hand from his behind and pull him to me,

"Come here!"

"I'm wet!"

With a pressure that more of that is unnecessary, I pull him to myself.

He smiles again. Embeds his clear, soft body between my arms dirty of sweat and sex. Rests his soft cheek on my arm, and I entwine one arm around his shoulder. His scent draws me in a rut again. Like his body was made of the petals of a pink rose.

I touch his arm down and smell the tip of his shoulder, when I'm smelling him I fail to keep my eyes open. Stick my nose to his hair again, he's like a drug, I don't wanna take him away from me. I stare at his eyelids, that are innocently came to rest. I drag my tongue up across his face, then suck his cheek. He parts his lips and lets out an innocent moan, those lips, which gave me service last night. Kiss his face and keep my lips still,

"Ecstasy!" I hiss against his cheek.

And slurp it again. He moans again and giggles. Brings his face back before mine, looking at me with the eyes dripping devilry, then looks at my lips, and gathers his lips on mine. The volcano between my legs is about to erupt, has been tenacious and trapped in my boxer. I push his lips hard and get up on one my elbow, bending over him without parting our lips. He glides his palm down straight off, and draws it on the head of my crotch, and add fuel to it. I moan from my skin being elongated. His next play is to slide his knee between my legs and reaches mercilessly far to very bottom of where sending me crazy. He's sudden, always that sudden...

A frantic haste shut out all my thoughts, if I reach him everything will be alright, at this very moment, if I'd be inside him everything will be fine and even after that also everything will be fine. Aah... Let our body talk, let them smell and touch each other... . 

I stretch my hand for that fluffy peach and touch about it, here, everything will be alright here. I impetuously kiss him as he leisurely reaching around his hand through my pubic hairs and on my stomach. But suddenly he takes his lips from me. I feel like he's going to torture me again, cause that smile is still on his lips. My heart beats strong, I come close again to continue the kissing, but he shoves my chest back onto the bed. I watch his games, defenseless. That smile, that sweet, sadistic smile won't detach his vernal fresh face. He rips the quilt off my crotch with a deft movement, without a due notice, as he's watching me on. Sets his eyes on what's being cramped in my boxer, and I have no shame of showing it to him, and I hope he takes mercy on me by seeing it.

He turns his back to me and alights softly on my crotch, holds its head exactly between his butt cheeks, as much my crotch's head pulling his cheeks a bit aside. He definitely senses the rigid flesh throbbing between his cheek better now. He tosses forwards and backwards to lead my dick pass through the empty space between his ass cheeks. By watching this wonderful view, I inevitably moan, and the sleep's totally washed out of my eyes. With his parted lips, which reminds me the taste of honey, he tries to roll his head back to be watching the moves of that triangle between his two soft circles as much as he's able to, like that, his little chin sticks to his shoulder. I lean on my elbows to manage to feast my eyes on the view of my manhood trapped between two big, round orange, and being extended forth and back, and I do nothing other than moaning and letting him using my joystick. All the thoughts that incinerate my brain, in this moment, this moment of sheer euphoria, are more aching, and being tortured by is like cutting a skin, that itches from the bottom beneath the clotted blood. 

I shut my eyes and open my mouth, try to feel it all. He sways his waist forth and back, then turn it to side to side. The rashly breathes, that I don't know when they let out of my throat, make deep moans. Hold my palms around his soft rocking waist. I keep watching the show of those white, silky, fat cheeks that prevail on my most central member, which is that stiff and rebel now that seems to want to detach itself from my body. My brain orders it's a crime to be extra sweet, unless they demand to be properly punished,

"Fuck!"

I Give him a sharp spanking on his buttocks, that much I make sure it both hurts him and makes him moan. I try smacking him on both sides a couple of times again to see them shaking. He moans louder every time, he always get the punishment that perfectly. I look at the mark on his skin as he still dancing on my dick, and I feel a kind of pleasure of defacing a cute thing, for I can deliver my strong emotion.

When his game ends he turns back and rest on my shoulder again, then lifts his head up to me and staring at me, and I cast my eyes over him like he's a prey I'm about to eat up. His smile is sweeter than before on his flushed skin,

"Did you like it?"

"You make me straight and never let me come like a human-being!"

"I love you!" He tries to vindicate kittenishly. He lowers his hand and skims across my crotch again, left to right, and the opposite, fro and back, like it's a sweet toy to him, and I let him play with it as far as he wants. The only reason I want to be alive now is to be touched by him.

But he brings his both arms up, wreathing them around my neck, lays on top of me with one knee beside my waist,

"So I'm ecstasy! Wanna smoke me?!"

"No, I'd prefer to swallow you!"

He giggles,

"Tester!" He drags the tip of his tongue over my ear, I moan, and he giggles, and he teases my nose at the tip with his sweet tongue a couple of times, then gathers his pretty smile on my lips. I suck his peachy lips down hardly and lick his tongue, he slide his tongue back to mine, and we start rubbing them against each other with opened mouths. He perchs his chin back down his hands on my chest, "I love you.", and kisses my forever-ready lips again,

"What's your schedule like today?"

"Sleeping. It's my day off."

"You're gonna sleep on your day off? Won't you go out?"

"No. I'm not that sociable to head out today...." I look over his mildly smiling face again, "I'll sleep or service you!"

And it makes him smile more. From between his soft, pink smile, his immaculately beautiful teeth appears. The oxygen is before me...

He presses his plump cheek on my chest,

"Takaki will come to pick me up and take me to the beach in an hour!"

"In an hour?"

"Un."

"So there's enough time to juice me up one more round!" I lead him downwards and he goes docilely. When the torrid heat of his breathe blows my manhood, I free a breathe as much hot to the nauseous climate of morning in my room. But as his lips kisses my cock, his phone rings.

"Ignore it just this once!"

But he sits up and put the quilt aside, looking at his phone, "Takaki...", then rolls his finger down the screen from left to right. I turn my sight to the window.

Everytime while talking with Takaki, he coyly lowers his voice, surely he doesn't hate Takaki to hear his languid voice, and moan a bit when he get a chance, and exaggerate a bit and tickle his fancy. Takaki is his totem of masculinity, and I can't hold a candle to him.

I watch his fleshes again, his small arms that a bit come up to the extent of a doll's potential, his platy, meaty body, and his nape haircut which made his head like a green apple, also the two hard pippins he's already sitting on and squashing them on my mattress, his chibian dialect, and mellow tone of his beautiful voice, and all these are the reasons I want to have him on bed now.

But another moment his words take me aback; 

"You come to pick me up now? That early?"

It's completely morning now.

I light a cigarette, and send the dense gray deep down my throat.

Calm down, just another cigarette's been burnt, and you lit the new one, and when it burns, you can yet light more...

He hangs up, back to the pose of his hands on my chest, like a real lover. Leans his little chin on his hands, and with his everlasting smile he says,

"How about we both change Takaki's mind with a naughty surprise?!"

I let the smoke slip from between my lips. Stare at him...

-

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it during the time my human soul were aching, could cry loud all the day...


End file.
